The New Gaston? or Noone's Like Gaston
by MasterofHearts1313
Summary: This is just a little post-movie fic about how things might have been for LeFou after... you know what happens. I mean, noone's like Gaston, right?


Well, I'm not exactly sure what to say about this story. I guess I felt like working off of a classic, and Beauty and the Beast had caught my attention recently. You know, you see a lot of pictures and fanfics and the like with Belle, the Beast, or Gaston, but unless Gaston stars in it, nobody ever seems to think about LeFou that much. I mean, I've seen a few LeFou stories on fanfiction before, but they are very, very few. And he was the one who actually got to survive the whole castle incident. You'd think the little guy would get a little more credit. Of course, Gaston pretty much seemed to be the majority of his life, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.

Anyways, let's get on with the story.

The New Gaston?

or

Noone Like Gaston

LeFou say quietly in the village's tavern. Things had been slow in the tavern, as of late. No, the regular customers still came, for the most part, but it wasn't like the good old days where the beer ran like water and the daily activities primarily consisted of singing and laughing over something or other. Those days were gone. They had been gone for almost a year now. It was just as cold a day as when _it_ had happened.

"Hey, LeFou," the bartender stared at the squat man rather intently, "why don't you tell us one of the stories of when you and Gaston went hunting?"

"Yeah." Dick, a thinner man with red hair, raised his beer stein. "Let's hear a story 'bout Gaston, the greatest man to ever live. Always puts a smile on my face."

Tom and Stanley, Dick's two drinking buddies, raised their own beer steins, nodding along with the thin man.

"A story?" Lefou turned around to look at the usual band of tavern misfits. One of the few thoughts he'd been having ever since what happened to Gaston was wondering if that group had a home outside of the tavern. If they did, they didn't seem to spend much time there. However, that wasn't the rare thought going through LeFou's head at this time. He just paused for a moment, swirled his beer stein as he looked down into it and sighed. "I don't know." He looked up with a frantic motion. "I mean, I like Gaston as much as the next guy, but I've told you all of the stories I know, from when I first met the guy to just before we stormed the castle. Heck! I've probably told them to you enough times, so everyone here has the whole biography of his life memorized."  
"Still," Stanley, the taller, broader man with light brown hair, smiled as he rubbed the inside rim of his beer stein, "it's great to hear about the guy. And he did a lot, too. Certainly there was be something you haven't told us yet."

"Yeah. That Gaston guy did just about everything a man could do." Tom was only about half a foot taller than LeFou, but nobody ever seemed to disrespect him. "That is, until... you know."

"I know. But that's what bothers me." LeFou rubbed his head gently as he turned back to the bar counter. He stared at the foam for a moment, thinking over what had been asked of him. He cast a sidelong gaze to either side. To one side, _his_ side, there was that ever famous fur pelt chair. The triplets, spending their time similarly to how they had spent a majority of their time in the last year, were leaning against it, trying to cling on to old memories. The other side held a large majority of the townsfolk, and he could sense that everyone was turning to look at him. "I mean, it's Gaston, the greatest man to ever live, facing that beast, and then they both just wordlessly disappear. Ever since that night, that castle's just been all pretty, and noone's heard from Gaston or that beast, or even found clues or anything."  
"Who had time to find clues with all those pieces of furniture chasing after us?" Dick slammed his beer stein onto the table. "Really. We were being chased by ovens and tables and chairs, and I swear I saw a possessed wardrobe."

"No kidding." Tom shuddered. "That place was completely freaky. We didn't even get past that first hall, before we all turned tail. And then that whole whacked out transformation." He rubbed the side of his head. "It's makes my head hurt just thinking about it."

"Then don't think about it." Dick clapped Tom on the back. "Thinking's really not going to do you any good, especially when it comes to thinking about that insane place."  
"No kidding." Stanley lowered his voice. "And can you believe that Belle actually has the nerve to, not only live there, but invite everyone to some sort of Christmas party." He held out a finger and jabbed it on the table to emphasize his point. "All I know is that I'm not stepping anywhere near that place."  
"Then quit your squabbing!" John, the fourth member of the usual drinking party, thin as a scarecrow and with ashy hair, flung his hand forward fast enough to douse Dick and Tom with the fluid from his beer stein. "Really, I thought we were talking about a story about Gaston."

"That's right." Stanley held up his beer stein and cupped his other hand around his mouth. "Come on, LeFou! Be a sport, and tell us a story about Gaston!"

An echoing agreement flowed around the room as the eyes continued to be trained on the lone, short, squat man at the counter.

"Don't you get it?" LeFou quickly turned around, causing himself to fall off the side of the stool and onto his head. He stood up, rubbing his new goose egg, and frowned. "Really, I've told you every story I know. I've told them to you so many times, I think even Gaston himself would have gotten sick of hearing nearly half of them." He paused, panting. He slowly rubbed his sweaty bangs, so some would fall over his eyes. "It's just, I don't know, maybe he should be treated a little more reverently."  
"Reverently?" John rubbed the little goatee that hung off of his chin. "How could we be more treating him more reverently? We listen to each of his legends like sermons." He chugged about half of his beer and wiped his mouth dry with his sleeve. "Besides, with as many things as Gaston did, there must be some new story you could tell us. One that we haven't heard before."

LeFou scowled slightly. "That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Despite being angry, his teddy bear-like structure didn't make him look very intimidating. "I've told you everything! Every last detail that was physically possible to remember." He flung his arms up in the air. "And there are no new stories. There's never going to be any new stories. There is no daily hunting trip, no daily scheme to boast about, no new skin to brag about!" He turned and walked over to the fireplace with the large painting of Gaston over it. "What do you want me to tell you? I can't just make up stories about Gaston. There are no more experiences to have with him."

"So, what?" Dick raised an eyebrow as he let go of his beer stein. He stood up slowly, brushing his hands against the wet arms of his jacket. "You're saying you don't like to hear about Gaston, anymore?"

"No, no!" LeFou turned back around, holding his hands up defensively. "I spent a majority of my life with the guy. I was the first to answer his call!" He paused, his mouth hanging open. After a moment, he dropped his arms and sighed. "Not like I'll ever hear that call again or anything."

"Well, we all know that Gaston is... gone." Stanley laughed weakly. "But that doesn't mean he's gone forever, right?"

"Yeah." John cracked his crooked smile. "No animal has been able to kill him before, and no beast kill hi-"

"Blast it! Would you quit treating him like a joke!" LeFou's eyes surged with hot, bitter tears as he glared over at the bunch. "We haven't seen him for almost a year now. Whether he had won or lost, he would have come back to tell us all how he had survived." He plopped down on the wooden floor and took hold of his head with both hands. "I should have gone with him. I should have helped him somehow."  
A strange silence fell over the tavern. Everyone was either muttering amongst their companions or casting sidelong, curious glances at the odd little man sitting on the ground. This was LeFou. This was the man who was used to being abused on an average of thirty times a day and still came out laughing. This was the man who never received credit outside of boasting Gaston or starting a song amongst the tavern. This was the man who had received serious injuries, been the butt of a thousand jokes, and was not uncommon to be found in a garbage can whenever Gaston was upset about a low weekly kill quota. However, this was the first time that he had ever let loose a single tear, let alone to cry.

"Well, if you're really feeling that tired," Dick sat down rather slowly, "I suppose we don't need a story tonight."

"Yeah." Tom just picked up his own beer stein and hide his face by drinking from it.

Some others also turned their faces away or hid their faces own faces behind their drinks. The once happy hour fell under a sullen air. The only ones who seemed to be paying attention now were the three who had been crying tears over Gaston even before he had disappeared: the triplets.

"What would you have done?" asked Antoinette, the sister in red. "Do you really think you could have saved Gaston."

"No, not really." LeFou stood up slowly brushing off his pants. "I could have helped him, though. I could have carried his gun, brought some extra bullets and powder."  
"But if the rest of you couldn't get through the main hall," Lynnette, the sister in yellow, placed a hand over her mouth, "then how could you have been with him? How did he get up there?"

"He climbed up the walls or something." LeFou rubbed his cheeks roughly with his sleeves. "Even if I couldn't have helped him, I would have at least liked to have seen how the last battle turned out. Just to be able to finish Gaston's story properly."

"It's just too hard to believe he's gone." Jeanette, the sister in green, began to sob into the furry chair. "Even though I'm glad Belle doesn't show her face around here much anymore, Gaston's still gone."

"But that's what I find curious." The bartender idly cleaned out one of the beer steins. "I mean, with no final story about Gaston, it probably leaves the whole thing feeling like it's still wide open."

"That's what I'm saying." Dick stood up again. "If there is no story that finished Gaston off, then there's no sense in stopping the stories about him."

"Yeah." Stanley pounded his fist on the table. "If nothing else, then somebody should take up his name and act in his place until there is some ending story."  
"What?" LeFou paused for a moment. It looked like he was going to cry, but instead, he clutched his stomach and doubled over in laughter. "Oh, please. Who could do that? Noone's like Gaston. Nobody can be Gaston but Gaston." He pointed at Stanley. "Really, do you think you could be Gaston?"

"Well, no." Stanley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He played with his beer stein by batting in back and forth in his hands. "I mean, I know what Gaston did, but I don't really know much about what Gaston was."  
"Yes. It'd have to be someone who watched almost every last move he made." John appeared behind LeFou and grabbed him by the shoulders. Everyone found it eerie how he could sneak around so freely and quietly. "Someone who really knew how to get into Gaston's head."  
"Me?" LeFou turned between John and the rest of the audience. He held up a pair of shaking hands and backed up into a corner. "Oh, come on, this has to be a joke. I couldn't possibly be Gaston. We were buddies. Pals. It wouldn't be right."  
"But you're the only one other than Gaston himself who handled his guns." Dick grinned as he walked towards John. "Not to mention the one who went on all the same hunts."  
"Hunts? Guns?" LeFou chuckled weakly. "Oh no. You completely don't understand. I was his caddy. I carried all the furs, pelts, kills, guns, and anything else Gaston needed me to. I mean, the best I could do was hit a tied up rabbit sitting two feet away from me."  
"Still." Dick rubbed his chin. "With all that Gaston killed, one would have to be pretty strong to carry it all."

"Not to mention that every hunter needs to start somewhere." John stroked his beard as he turned around. "All right. Show of hands. Who all here knows how to hold a gun, let alone hunt?"

Whether out of fear of being called on as the next Gaston or out of fact, there were no immediate responses. After an awkwardly silent moment, three hands raised up in the crowd."

"All right." John closed one eye and crossed his arms. "Keep your hand up, if it's not because you're a farmer who wants to deter wolves from taking your sheep and cattle."

The three hands immediately dropped down.

"Oh, come on. This isn't even funny." LeFou pounded both hands on his chest. "I mean, look at me. I'm weak. I'm scrawny. I couldn't even take Tom on, let alone as many men as Gaston could. Noone is like Gaston after any aspect, end of story. Gaston was Gaston, and that's the end of it."

"But how can it be the end of it, if there's no recorded end of Gaston?" Tom followed his two other buddies. "If you need some toughening up, I'm sure we could take care of that." He cracked his knuckles. "Really, haven't you ever wanted to be Gaston?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." LeFou was sweating profusely. "I mean, everybody wanted to be Gaston, but I don't think anyone could be Gaston."

"All you'd have to do is take his name." Dick shrugged. "Train for a little bit, hunt for a while, and if you die, then at least he have a final story that will actually end Gaston, and maybe we can have a lasting legacy to go off of."

"Yeah. It's still a week or two away from the anniversary of when Gaston disappeared." Stanley hurled one hand in the air to gesture to some of the others. "There's still time to say that Gaston came back, right?"

LeFou was feeling more and more nervous as more and more eyes landed on his. In a panic, he closed his eyes and lashed his fists out. Of course, when you're about his height, you're average jab pretty much is a cheap shot to the groin, which disabled Dick and John right off the bat, and even Tom was sent back a few feet.

Like animal instinct, LeFou, his eyes still closed, ran over, jumped onto a stool, then the counter, ran down, hopped across the sea of heads like a frog on lilypads, and landed right outside of the door. He didn't open his eyes until it was too late, for he had ran into the well in the middle of town square and fallen into the frosty water below. He found the bucket quickly, and he began to numbly pull on the rope that would bring him to the top.

Spluttering water, choking in cold air, clacking his teeth, and shivering all over, LeFou walked out of the bucket and across the snow-coated streets. It was shocking how late it could get without anyone noticing. The short man was left to stumble his way down the streets in the cold night. At first, he was alone, but he soon could sense that someone was following him. It wasn't like the crunch of snow under heavy boots, but someone was definitely sneaking up behind him. "Looks, guys, I'm no Gaston, all right!" He wrapped his arms around his body both in disgruntlement and cold.

"We know." Antoinette answered. "Why would we think that?"

"Indeed." Lynnette scoffed. "As if we would actually follow him around."

LeFou turned around to see that it was the triplets who were walking down the road as well. "Oh, sorry about that." He rubbed the back of his head. "It's just that with all that talk going on, I was afraid those guys were following me."

"No, we just happen to live on the same road as you and Gaston did." Jeanette placed a hand on her chest. "It's not like we'd go and care about you."

"I know." LeFou bit his lip tightly. It was a little awkward, for it wasn't like the girls had stuck up their nose and walked past him. They were just standing there, like they were waiting for him to do something. He soon found his voice again and laughed lightly. "Still, you have to admit that it's weird that anyone would think I could be Gaston. Noone's like Gaston."

"Especially not you." Antoinette folded her arms and huffed. "It's a little disgusting how these people are treating Gaston's name these days."

"And this all started with that stupid Belle." Lynnette clenched her fists and kept her arms close to her sides. "She's not even around anymore. For all we know, Gaston might have killed the beast, and the two of them ran away."

"You don't really think that, do you, Lynnette?" Jeanette swallowed tenderly. "Not Gaston. He couldn't do that to us."  
"With what that Belle did to him, I'd bet she only acted like she didn't like him, so she could use some sort of witchcraft to take him away." Lynnette opened her hands up and held them out like talons. "Just like she used to snatch his heart."

"No!" Jeanette bit into her fingernails. "I knew that Belle was odd, but do you really think she was a witch?"

"Whether she was or not, Gaston is gone, and he's not coming back." Antoinette blew out a steady stream of air. "And the people in this village just don't seem to care as long as they have something to celebrate."

As much as LeFou agreed with Antoinette, it was tough for him to pass up an opportunity to flirt. He looked around and saw a gun leaning against a nearby house. He ran over and grabbed it. "No kidding. Like I could be the next Gaston, let alone Gaston himself." He fumbled with the gun until he could get it to spin around cleanly a couple times. "I mean, it's not like I could just aim the gun however I felt like, shoot it, and hope to hit a duck like Gaston." He stopped the gun and fired it straight up in the air. He jumped and dropped it, surprised that it was loaded.

"What exactly are you trying to prove." Lynnette rolled her eyes. "All you're going to do with that is wake up whoever's sleeping."

"Besides, we should get home and to bed." Antoinette rubbed her bare arms. "It's late, it's cold, and we really don't have any reason to be here."

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about that." LeFou walked over to pick up the gun, so he could put it back where he found it. As he bent down to pick up the firearm, though, a twenty-pound goose fell right on top of him.

"Oh my gosh!" Jeanette looked straight up in the sky. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know." Lynnette blinked a few times at the large bird. "Did he... did he really just kill something?"

"It looks like it." Antoinette stepped back in shock. "But I didn't even hear that bird coming."

LeFou popped his head out from under the bird and screamed as soon as he saw its dead, glassy eye. He looked back at the triplets and blushed out of embarrassment for both screaming at the bird and the quick case of irony. He pulled his hands out from beneath the bird, and he rested his head in one hand and drummed the fingers of the other on the ground. "Well, it's not a duck."

---

Well, I don't really know what else to say, aside from the fact that I made up the names of the triplets (bimbettes, babettes, however you call them), than to humbly ask for your review and hope you enjoyed the story.

Later,

MasterofHearts1313

P.S. A beer stein is the stylized mug used for beer. It pretty much looks like a mug with a flip-top lid and is usually made out of glazed stone or metal.


End file.
